


You & Me (Cut From the Same Piss-Soaked Cloth)

by FghtInUs



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (not in a kinky way), Bed-Wetting, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Hatred, Shame, but he's also a good boyfriend, steve is hard on himself, trying their best while also being bad at talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23725321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FghtInUs/pseuds/FghtInUs
Summary: What do you get when you mix nightmares, an uncontrollable bladder, and Steve's extreme inability to ask for help?A supportive boyfriend, apparently. Steve's just as surprised as you are.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 16
Kudos: 149





	You & Me (Cut From the Same Piss-Soaked Cloth)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @teenagemutantninjamushroom on tumblr for betaing for me!! She's sweet as fuck, check her out.  
> If you feel like it, kudos & comments are greatly appreciated <3

Waking up from a nightmare to soaked sheets and piss pants for the third goddamn time this week, Steve knows he isn’t going to get any more sleep tonight. Begrudgingly, he gets out of bed to change his pants and angrily strip the sheets.

Steve shoves the soiled bundle of fabric into the wash and prays Bucky didn’t hear him get up. 

No matter how hard he tries to hide it, Steve knows Bucky has difficulty sleeping on good days. Cold, dizzying shame prickles in Steve’s chest at the thought of waking Bucky up over something so fucking stupid.

The bitter smell of brewing coffee tells Steve he has no such luck, the sound of the coffee maker gurgling from the kitchen soft background noise. He walks back into the living room to find Bucky on the floor in front of the couch, working on a puzzle he set up on the coffee table.

Caffeine doesn’t work on them but Bucky claims he likes the taste. Steve thinks, of course he does, because Bucky takes his sugar with a splash of coffee. If you ask Steve, he thinks Bucky drinks the stuff as an excuse for something to do with his hands. Either way, Steve doesn’t mind.

“Hey,” Steve says, voice disruptive in the night’s quiet. “Sorry for waking you up.” 

Bucky glances up from the puzzle at Steve and away again. “You didn’t; just heard you were awake too. Figured I’d keep you company.” 

Bucky’s shoulders hunch minutely before he continues, a little stiffly, “I can go, if you want.”

“No!” Steve responds too quickly. “No. Stay, please.” 

Bucky nods and his posture relaxes. “Okay. Alright.” 

Steve sits down on the couch behind Bucky, watching him assemble pieces from over his shoulder. 

After a few minutes of quiet, Bucky breathes in, “Do you wanna talk-”

“No,” Steve says, kind but firm. 

Bucky nods and falls silent, seemingly dropping the subject. Steve maybe shouldn’t be so grateful, but what’s he gonna say? Captain America pisses his pants over scary dreams? Like hell.

Steve gets up a few minutes later to put his sheets in the dryer. While he’s up, he pours coffee into two mugs, one plain for him and one half coffee, half creamer for Bucky. He sets the mug down by Bucky’s elbow before reaching over him to slot a piece of the puzzle into the right spot.

“Thanks,” Bucky murmurs, smiling gently at him. “Couldn’t figure that one out for the life of me.”

Steve presses a hand to Bucky’s shoulder in response before settling back onto the couch, curling into his warm crevice.

It would be peaceful, his ankle pressed to Bucky’s hip, the soft light of the lamp and the moon coming through the window, if not for the constant muffled clunking of the dryer reminding him why he’s awake in the first place.

Every time the dryer thumps a little too loudly for Steve’s comfort, he risks a nervous glance in Bucky’s direction. After the fifteenth glance in as many seconds, Bucky meets Steve’s gaze. He looks conflicted, eyes roaming over Steve’s face like he’s searching for something. Steve knows all he’ll find is embarrassment, but lets him search anyway. 

Bucky stiffly pushes to his feet and, with a reluctant sigh, beckons Steve to follow him into his bedroom. Steve doesn’t quite understand, but he obediently shuffles after him anyway, just like he will do every time Bucky asks. They awkwardly stand in Bucky’s bedroom for too long, Steve shifting from foot to foot and Bucky looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. 

Bucky is resolutely looking at a spot on the floor when he gestures to the bed with a slight hand movement. “Sit.”

Steve looks from Bucky to the bed and back again, but Bucky won’t look at him. His cheeks are red and his mouth is downturned in a little frown. He doesn’t offer any more instruction or information, so Steve hesitantly places himself on the edge of the bed. In the stale silence of the room, the crinkling of the mattress is loud and it occurs to Steve that mattresses don’t usually crinkle in the first place.

“It helps,” Bucky croaks, and clears his throat before speaking again. “The mattress cover, I mean. When the nightmares…” Bucky shrugs a little. “Y’know. Makes clean up easier.”

Oh.

Someone else gets it. _Bucky_ gets it.

Steve’s heart swells a few sizes too big for his ribs, tears stinging his eyes.

“Buck,” Steve breathes, but they both know what he means.

“Yeah. I know.” 

The words hang in the air and Bucky is visibly relieved when the dryer buzzes. 

“Thank _fuck_ ,” he says under his breath, fleeing the room. Steve can’t help but smile, fondness and love chasing away some of the terrible ick of the night’s events. 

Steve emerges from Bucky’s bedroom to see Bucky disappear into his own bedroom. 

“What are you doing?” Steve asks, not as kindly as he maybe should have, trailing after him. 

Inside Steve’s bedroom, Bucky is sorting through the sheets and ignoring Steve.

Steve tries to swipe the sheets from Bucky’s hands. 

“I can do it,” Steve says, just this side of desperate.

“I know,” Bucky says, indifferent. “Can’t sleep anyway; cleaning helps.”

Steve sees through the old trick; Bucky’s used it as many times as Steve’s gotten sick and then some. Some of the wind comes out of Steve’s sails.

“C’mon, you don’t have to-”

Bucky cuts him off with a sharp look.

“You can help or you can leave,” Bucky says, tone leaving no room for arguments. 

Steve sighs and gives in, letting go of the sheet so Bucky can properly shake it out. Together in the quiet of the night, they put Steve’s bed back together with efficiency and military corners. 

Once they’re finished, Bucky flashes him a small smile, one not of pity but of warmth and comfort, and goes to leave. Quick, before he gets too far away, Steve reaches out and takes Bucky’s hand in an attempt to convey all the things he can’t say. 

Bucky looks back over his shoulder and meets Steve’s eye, expression soft. He squeezes Steve’s hand and runs his thumb across Steve’s knuckles once, twice, before letting go. 

“G’night, Steve.”

“Night, Buck.”


End file.
